“That must have been hard growing up.”
“Well, sort of. But the company paid for me to go to boarding school in the UK, so it wasn't that bad. I had some stability. And it means I've seen far more of the world than most people. Of course, none of it was anywhere tourists would go.”
“Jesus. And there was I, thinking I was intrepid for leaving Wisconsin and going all the way to wild, uncivilised England.”
“Uncivilised, really? It can't be all that different from the States.”
“It is, and it isn't. Sometimes it's so familiar, and then somebody will say something, and you realise it's not the same at all.”
“What do you mean?”
“Something simple. Like, I was in a bar, and I asked for a seltzer and the bartender looked at me oddly and suggested I try a chemist, which later I found out meant a drugstore.”
I laugh. “He thought you meant Alka-Seltzer for heartburn. What’s a seltzer to you then?”
“A fruity, fizzy, alcoholic drink.”
“Never knew that.” I tip my head. “What else?”
“You don’t hunt.”
“I think that’s more of a city folk versus country folk thing. You might find it different outside of London. Are you a good shot?”
“I’m a great shot,” he says without a hint of modesty. But this is Anders, after all. He doesn’t make false boasts, but neither does he hide his light under a bushel.
Still, I’m enjoying this. “What other talents have you got?”
“I can build a pretty mean den. Catch and cook a trout on an open fire.”
“Oh. Nowthat'suseful. So, come the zombie apocalypse, everybody stick close to Anders.” I wanted to saywe. Me andEffie.Weshould stay close toyou. But that sounded way too intimate.
He laughs. “You could do worse. You have my promise: in the event of a zombie apocalypse, I’ll save you and Effie first.”
I’m aware he’s joking but his words do something to me. There’s an undercurrent to everything tonight. It’s likeToy Story,working on two levels; there’s the superficial humour, but underneath there’s a deeper emotional message. It makes me uncomfortable. It’s too much, too soon. Anders in a nutshell.
I shy away from it and take the shallow road. “Do you miss it?” I ask.
“Sometimes. It's a big change.”
“It must have been. Small-town Wisconsin to the greatest city in the world.”
“Well, that's very patriotic of you,” he says. “But I'm not sure we all agree.”
“You choose to live here too,” I point out. “You must agree a bit. If not London, where wouldyounominate? Paris? Tokyo?”
“Chicago. World-class architecture but it comes with great pizza and a big lake.”
“I’ll give you the pizza, but doesn’t it get really cold there?” I give a fake shiver.
“Only for sissies.”
“That would be me, then.”
“Don’t worry,” he says, leaning forward. “I would keep you warm.” And suddenly we are back inToy Storyland again. The thought of him keeping me warm is already heating my blood. Now I no longer want dessert. All I can think about is getting out of here, shortly followed by getting out of my dress and getting into his bed. With him.
He can see the impact of his words. The air between us is charged. He swallows and his eyes find mine; a question. The slightest nod from me and he asks for the bill. We don’t needmore words. He pays. The waiter brings our coats. He helps me into mine before his hands slide down my arms. One hand wraps around mine, he holds the door and we are outside.
I so badly want to kiss him. It’s a physical ache. So, when he drags me two steps into the alcove of the neighbouring shop, I go with him willingly. He half turns me, my back to the door. His hand drops mine, moving to cradle my head. His fingertips slide through my hair, trailing tingles. I tip my chin up. His blue eyes are gone, swallowed by desire. His body is hard against mine; I can feel his heat everywhere. His lips are open, breath coming in pants.
